


crossfire

by nixneptune



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Banter, F/M, partners (in crime)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nixneptune/pseuds/nixneptune
Summary: dialogue dump and flash fiction. it’s one of those bonding moment cliches that involves one person fixing up the other after a fight...





	crossfire

“Sorry,” he says again. I narrow my eyes, pinching the gauze tape tighter. 

“You should be,” I reply sharply. He drums his fingers absentmindedly on the table, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, searching for words like a fish out of water searches for air. I enjoy it. He’s not often this flustered.  
“You picked a fight you shouldn’t have. Thank god I stepped in, or you’d’ve been in deep shit with the cops.” I avert my eyes. “God knows we don’t need any more of that now.”

“Bullshit.” He jerks his arm up, undoing the bandage I had wrapped loosely around his forearm. His brow is furrowed and his fingers put the table’s edge in a death grip; he’s back to the same hotheaded simpleton that started a fight he couldn’t finish. “You know I woulda had this one in the bag, if only he didn’t have his friends show up!”

“Then what would you have done if I hadn’t gotten there, huh?” I shoot up, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. “What woulda happened to you?” 

We study each other for a brief second, my face tense and already wet with tears. He’s hiding behind the dark curls that cover his face. But after my eyes are finished searing my worry into his head and my breaths slow, he takes his hands off the unfinished bandage. We both sit down. 

“I don’t wanna lose you, okay? You’re stupid and hotheaded and don’t know how to do your job, but I’m here to help with that,” I say, redoing the bandage. His arm flinches under my cold fingers as I skim over a bruise. “We gotta stick together, yeah?”

“Jane...”

“Lee.” I’m stern. I hope my concern can reach him; he’s simple, but not simple enough to forget how much I care. 

He peeks in between his curls, and reaches out to lace his fingers with mine. He’s all patched up again, every vulnerable part covered in the bandages he wears more than clothes. Bruises blossom across his skin, unique as a giraffe’s spots. They will remain until we can move on, but as long as he has them I’ll be there to wrap them. We are partners, after all. 

“Thanks, Jane. No one does this like you,” he says gently, squeezing my hand. I brush sweaty stray curls out of his face, and meet his dull blue eyes. They’re kinder, more tender than most know, like lapping waves at midday. The waves lap at my feet and the tide is kind, but raging tsunamis drown the others. To him it’s the world versus us, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I give his hand a squeeze back. 

“Oh, Lee, you know me. I’ll always have your back.” I blush, gathering the first aid kit and giving him a light pat on the shoulder.  
He hums in response. We stand and embrace, embracing both each other and the silence for a moment. 

But then we remember our job, and pull away. 

“Alright,” I sigh, gesturing to the man’s body in the corner, “now let’s deal with him.”


End file.
